[CHAPTER XI]
THE LAUNCH IS CHRISTENED
Dick turned to Roy in dismay. Chub, stifling a chuckle, looked over toward the nearest shore.
“If she was going six miles,” he said, “things on shore would move by a heap faster. I don’t believe she’s doing better than four.”
“She’s stopped, you blamed lunatic!” cried Dick wildly. Chub stared in surprise.
“Stopped, has she? Why, I hadn’t noticed it! How can you tell?”
“Cut it out, Chub,” said Roy. Dick glared at him a moment and then turned with dark and somber looks toward the engine.
“Where’s the handle?” he asked.
“You put it in the drawer,” answered Roy.
Their troubles began again. Dick turned and Roy turned and Chub turned, and all the time the launch, having gradually swung her nose down-stream was floating gently back toward Silver Cove. They had accomplished fully three fourths of the distance between the Cove and Fox Island when the engine stopped, but it seemed now that they would soon have the trip to make over again. It was very hot with scarcely any breeze rippling the water, and it was well on toward dinner-time. Chub yielded the wheel to Dick and sat down to get his breath and wipe the perspiration from his face.
“Where’s the directions?” asked Roy.